Personal Hell
by xfmoon
Summary: Don't really know how to summarize this one, it's a Jane vs. Red John fic, you'll just have to read it.


**A/N: **Multiple character death in here, sorry!

**Disclaimer:** Nope I didn't go back in time and invent The Mentalist before Bruno Heller, hence I don't own it or any of it characters. I'll just play with them a little and put them back neatly from where they came.

* * *

He was running.

Beep, beep, beep.

He was chasing him.

Red John.

The man who ruined his life.

He was in a forest, the dusk was settling. The trees were obstructing his view and the dimming sunlight and impending darkness wasn't helping him much either.

Beep, beep, beep.

What was that incessant beeping sound he kept hearing?

He was gaining on him, just a few hundred yards separated the two running forms in the forest.

He needed to catch him. The man had taken everything from him, his family, his friends, his sanity.

* * *

He had had a plan, but Red John had anticipated his move and that had left Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby seriously injured, leaving him with only minor bruises and Lisbon with a broken arm.

At this point everybody was either hurt or hurting, and he should have known to call it quits right then and there, wait until he was more levelheaded before going after this monster again, but Red John had a way of making him lose his head.

He had miscalculated yet again, and in the process Red John had taken Lisbon. Jane suspected he had even made it easier for him, being it was his fault she only had one arm to defend herself with. With the rest of the team still in the hospital, he had been forced to go after Red John with no backup. Not trusting anyone else to have his back and not wanting to risk anybody else's lives.

* * *

He had found him in a hunting cabin in the midst of torturing Lisbon. Not having thought out a next move he acted on instinct and burst through the door, startling both Red John, Lisbon and himself. For a few seconds the world stood still, none of them moved, then the moment passed, they composed themselves into their appointed stereotypic roles, the bad guy, the victim - or damsel in distress, though I'm pretty sure Lisbon wouldn't much care for such a title - and the hero. And from that moment on the world took an extra turn to catch up with what it had lost, going from slow-motion the events unfolding in front of Jane's eyes sped up to the speed of a rocket blasting off into the sky.

Beep, beep, beep.

Red John who was standing behind a chair, which Lisbon was tied to, took a firm grip on the blood dripping knife, the one he already had used to slice into Lisbon's skin earlier, the same knife that a minute ago had hung slack at his side caused by Jane's temporary interruption. He raised it with a sly smile holding it with his right hand for a second in front of Lisbon's face before he drew the knife with a practiced and swift movement from left to right, slitting Lisbon's throat with a clean and precise cut. It all went so fast. Jane could hear himself shouting _"NOooo!"_, and felt himself running towards them, but he wasn't fast enough, Red John bolted, and as much as he wanted to run after him, he couldn't leave Lisbon there to die alone.

He tried to put pressure on the wound, but it wouldn't stop bleeding, there was blood everywhere. His hands were all red, his shirt and vest already soaked within minutes, she was dying right in front of him, and he couldn't do anything. He looked into her eyes, the pain and the fear was blatantly apparent. He felt his cheek dampen, he was crying. He kept repeating _"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"_ and _"Oh God, please don't die,"_ over and over again.

She looked at him with her expressive green eyes, trying to relay what she, due to the circumstances, was no longer able to say. He understood her, spending as much time together as they did, you eventually developed a sort of 'psychic' connection, or at least a short hand, being able to pick up on the others signals, and these two did it better than most.

She didn't want him to blame himself, but they both knew he did and would continue to. With a lump in his throat and tears still making tracks down his cheeks, he uttered the words he had kept inside for too long. _"I love you."_ The words hung in the already heavy air, packed with dead and frustration, the promise of the sentence lost in the despair of the situation. Jane felt lighter somehow, he had unlocked the secret chamber of his heart, his last hiding place, and now...

Two things happened, first Lisbon's face lit up, and for a moment the pain was forgotten, her eyes was filled with such care and love that Jane's heart melted and the last remaining frostbite on his soul vanished as mist in the sun. She smiled and her dimple was showing, she had never looked more beautiful to him. Then she went limp, her eyes closed, her body had shut down. She was dead.

Beep, beep, beep.

For a moment his whole world crumpled. As he began to shut down, his mind regressed to a simpler time, mental breakdown threatened to overtake him.

He thought he felt a presence and then he remembered what he'd said once: _"Revenge is for fools and for madmen" _well he could probably fit under the category of 'madmen' right now.

He had taken her body off of the chair and laid it on the floor then neatly covered it with his jacket.

He went outside.

The cold wind assaulted his senses, making his already chilled body, even colder. He looked up, it was getting dark, the clear sky was slowly being sprinkled with thousands and thousands of glistening stars. He loved watching the stars, they had a very calming effect, just sitting there for decades. Connecting the past, present and the future, just by being what they are.

Beep, beep, beep.

When he eventually looked down, his mind still caught up in thought, his eyes however automatically scanned the desolate area around the cabin, saw a moving figure that caught his attention. It was standing, observing him, hiding between two trees. Though being far away he didn't have to look long before he recognized the person, the shape and build of the form gave him away. It was Red John.

Before he realized it, he was running, as fast as he could. But for the first time in his life, he wasn't running away from danger, he was running towards it. He couldn't and he wasn't going to let him get away again, not this time. This was his last chance and he knew it.

* * *

Was he gaining on him or was Red John slowing down? He didn't know and frankly he didn't care, as long as he caught the guy. Red John stopped abruptly, making Jane stop as well. Jane thought it odd. What was he doing, he shouldn't just stand there, this was his chance to kill the SOB, he just couldn't move. The man smirked, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. Jane watched him carefully. After a moment more Red John turned and ran, only a second longer and Jane was following in hot pursuit. One madman after another.

When they stopped again, Jane realized they had been running in circles. They were right back where they began, at the cabin. This was it! Red John was moving towards the door. Jane wasn't going to let that maniac into the cabin again, it was sacred ground now. No he had to kill him right here and right now, but lacking the means, he decided on a head on collision and therefore charged him like a bull would a matador. He knocked him to the ground and in an adrenaline rush started punching him repeatedly, not feeling his knuckles breaking making his own blood flow freely, and not stopping until he couldn't distinguish Red John's blood from his own.

Jane knew he himself wasn't a coldblooded killer at heart, it wasn't in his nature. He got up, walked around himself a few times, taking deep breaths. It didn't calm him though, instead tears began streaming down his cheeks, his heart rate accelerated and his breathing quickened, he knew he was panicking. He fell to his knees clutching his chest with his bloodied hands. He needed air desperately, he felt like he was choking. When he calmed down enough to breathe semi normal he looked over only to find Red John gone. Bewildered he looked around only to realize too late that the murderer was standing right behind him.

He wasn't fast enough for the blow he felt to his head, but he recovered relatively fast and got in the fight again. The two grown men wrestled and threw punches at each other. Arms and legs were flying all over the place. Looking at them it was impossible to determine who was winning and which one was hurt the most. It might not have looked it, but it was a fair fight, between men of equal strength and intelligence, that was until Red John drew a concealed knife and with skilled precision stabbed Jane in his lower abdomen, making Jane scream and bend over in pain. Red John stood still, bloody knife in hand and he smiled, thinking he'd won he let his guard down, only to be surprised by Jane's last attempt at stopping the monster. With all the strength he had left he charged, again, running straight for the knife, and by some lucky chance he managed to get it turned around, so it drove right into the killers own body puncturing his left lung. They both fell to the ground, Jane on top of Red John, who was hissing for air. Jane squatted over him and took out the knife, he held it high for a moment, taking in the killers face, Red John looked frightened and in pain. Jane would have loved to sit there and watch him bleed out in agony, but he was badly wounded himself and couldn't take the chance that he might die before Red John did and Red John then might get away alive. So he took aim and with all his strengths he planted the knife in Red John's cold heart, watching him as the last life drained out of his body.

He left him there, and somehow managed to get inside the cabin again and call the team to inform them of their location. The last thing he did before losing consciousness was to lay down besides Lisbon's body, clutching her now cold hand in his.

* * *

When the paramedics arrived at the scene, they found three people there, two of whom were dead, and the last one was barely hanging on to life.

The team now fairly healthy again was in mourning, their fierce leader was dead and Jane was still not out of the woods, so to speak, pun intended. They were all seated around his bed, silently listening to the constant beeping of the many machines he was hooked up to.

Beep, beep, beep.

He'd won, he'd finally defeated Red John, but at what cost? Was the killing of evil worth the good it had taken with it? The team would recover eventually, but they'd never be the same.

_"Do you think he dreams?" _Grace asked the others.

_"It's possible." _Cho said.

_"Of what I wonder."_ Grace pondered.

_"Probably killing Red John."_ Rigsby said.

_"No I don't think so,"_ Grace said with conviction in her voice. _"Only cold hearted killers do that."_

_"Well maybe if he did, it would be like being trapped in a nightmare. Like his own personal hell." _Rigsby continued.

_"Don't say that Rigsby. Don't you think he has suffered enough? I'm sure he's dreaming of good things, happy memories, like times with his family, or Lisbon or us even."_ As she said the last words silent tears fell from her eyes, going down her cheeks they left behind tracks until she dutifully wiped them away, the sad feelings lingering, however.

Beep, beep, beep.

They fell into silence again.

Beep, beep, beep.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Suddenly the room was swarmed with nurses and doctors, and they were guided outside. 15 minutes later the doctor came out to relay the sad news. Jane had passed away.

* * *

The beeping had gone, nothingness enclosed him. He felt good, like a new man. He was free and he was happy. Familiarity enveloped him and he felt at peace. He was at home now.


End file.
